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uh, spraypaint and ink pens i use to write in every color i think in to paint a picture with every rhyme that i speak in yeah, the gallery is the beat then i… i… i… i…

yes, ladies and gentlemen we have a special guest for you this evening ghost, you ready?

yo, i verbally paint pictures, i’m the hood’s best storyteller this about a young boy dealing with the older fellas promised him the lives you see on tv he ran packs across town like rhyme cd’s and big chains, new clothes, nikes and reeboks stacking too much loot to squeeze in a shoe box saving, he promised his mom a crib in atlanta and his pops got killed through debt, he was a dealer so he staged jazz, fox jump off the suit cases no more cross-town, now he’s crossing them states and seeing new faces, not knowing who to trust so when the door kicked open they scream “this is a bust” “is it a set up?”, it seems funny, a scuffle broke out he got hit, dropped the cases spitting blood out of his mouth he walked four blocks to die trying to survive and now all that’s left is his mom screaming “god why?”

uh, spraypaint and ink pens i use to write in every color i think in to paint a picture with every rhyme that i speak in yeah, the gallery is the beat then i… i… i… i…

yeah, yeah, let me begin by saying “shut the f*ck up!” let me begin by saying i don’t think this man knew what he had in store he opened the door and found the bag under the floor not a peep, always working a lot, get the flame, aim, pop open the box and take off out the back of the p*wn shop scoping the lot, hoping the cops hadn’t seen the plates on his car he felt like he been hustling so hard like a demon he pumped a cold heart play it cool like humphrey bogart, put the rings on his chain attached by both parts he did the drop, one ring in a bag, envelope, all the money he had left the money and the ring in a slow exhale two weeks went by, got a box in the mail in the box was a bullet made of gold melted down from the ring, recast with two rings and a band and he stared at it sitting in the palm of his hand and sat down next to a picture that sat on the nightstand it was his wife in the picture on his side with the ring on the finger on the week that she died as he looked in the reflection, at those eyes so red he put the bullet in a gun and put it right in his head like that

uh, spraypaint and ink pens i use to write in every color i think in to paint a picture with every rhyme that i speak in yeah, the gallery is the beat then i… i… i… i… uh, yeah, uh

fiasco!

you know he didn’t have enough power in his thrusters to muster warp 5 plus if he pushed it, the fuel cells could rupture then they would die then the galaxy would suffer but he knew he had to try but he couldn’t risk it, put the cure in the escape pod and kissed it and told her goodbye, she started to cry, but he knew if he could distract ’em he could buy her some time and she could make it out alive turn the suit around and got prepared for the stand off space mind had blew one of the hands off damaged laser cannons and he got the system jammed and he faced the whole fleet, blood seeping through his teeth the final saga in the seven planet wars unsheathed the sword and then he charged forward his eyes flashed behind the cracked c*ckpit gl*ss he let out a laugh and then all she heard was a blast like

uh, spraypaint and ink pens i use to write in every color i think in to paint a picture with every rhyme that i speak in yeah, the gallery is the beat then i… i… i… i…

yeah, ladies and gentlemen this has been a fort minor production ghostface! fiasco!

uh, spraypaint and ink pens

it’s an expression coming out of a simple can of paint look, it’s the easiest way for the average kid to paint things using himself as the meaning of it you gonna get into that gallery real soon, man. why? i’m not gonna be famous one day why do you always say that? ’cause it’s true